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The Celebrity

(It's not just my imagination!)

The Celebrity

Throughout my first two visits to China, totaling more than five months, I received quite a lot of attention — mostly in the form of staring.  So much so that I began to feel like some sort of celebrity.  Or at least I started to understand how celebrities must feel, being stared at everywhere they go.

At first I thought maybe it was just because I was a foreigner.  But sometimes I would sit in a busy plaza or pedestrian-street and watch other tourists.  They didn't seem to get the same level of attention that I received.  Then I thought maybe it was because I have long hair, or that I was usually wearing a bandana on my head, two things that make me stand out even from other foreigners.  It may even be that, because of my Native American features, my appearance seems more exotic and difficult to place (something I've been told by people in other countries as well).  At various times, I went sightseeing with others — either Chinese locals I met along the way, or other backpackers like myself — and many of them commented that I seemed to be getting more than my share of looks from the locals.

Most of the time, if I noticed someone staring, I would smile and wave.  This usually prompted a favorable response... first an embarrassed laugh, then a smile and wave in return.  Some of the more outgoing ones would even motion for me to come over, which I usually did without hesitation.  This allowed me to enjoy many conversations with people that I normally would not have met.

The encounters that were most enjoyable, though, were the countless times that people would come up to me and ask me to pose with them for photos.  This happened time and time again.  And sometimes they wouldn't even ask.  In Yangshuo, I was sitting on a bench eating ice-cream with a French couple I met in my hotel.  Four Chinese men sat down on the benches across from us — one took a photo of me, smiled and thanked me, then they all got up and walked away.

Mostly it was young females who approached me — (tough life, eh?) — and after getting a photo with their camera, I would ask to do one with mine.  One of the most memorable encounters was also in Yangshuo.  I was walking down "Western Street" (which is what they call the pedestrian street with all the shops and restaurants catering to Westerners) and was approached by an unusually tall Chinese girl.  She asked if I would pose with her and her classmates, so I spent the next ten minutes or so doing various individual and group photos.  For a while, I just stood in one spot while each member of the group posed with me one at a time.  I found out that they were all university students on a day trip from Guilin (about 30 minutes away by bus).  After all the photo taking was done, they thanked me and we all went on our merry ways.

Later that afternoon (actually early evening), I encountered the same group again — and the same girl approached me once more.  This time she asked if I would join them for dinner.  I agreed and soon found myself sitting at a large round table, in a very local restaurant (no English menu, no other foreigners), with seventeen students and their teacher.  None of them spoke much English, but with the aide of my dictionary (and a lot of gesturing) we got along just fine.  They all thought it was funny when I pulled out my own set of chopsticks.

A few of the 17 students I dined with.
A few of the 17 students I dined with.

After dinner, we went for ice-cream, then I walked with them to their bus and met the rest of their classmates — forty-three in all.  They gave me the address of their college in Guilin and invited me to come visit.  I had not planned to stop in Guilin, but told them that I would try.

A couple of days later, I left Yangshuo and headed back to Guilin.  Instead of connecting with another bus to Guangzhou, I decided to stay at least one day to see if I could find the campus.  I knew they had class until 4:30, but I got a late start on my search, which left me with very little time to find them.  I flagged down a taxi, showed the driver the address (written in Chinese for me by the teacher) and off we went.

We pulled through the gate into the campus proper at 4:20 — this was really going to be close.  My driver asked a couple of people where the math building was and finally found someone who knew.  The bad news:  it was in the northwest part of the city — we were in the southeast part.  The translation wasn't very clear but, from what I gathered, there were either two campuses of the same college and the math department was at the other one — or I had been taken to Guilin College instead of Guilin Teacher's College.  Either way, I was out of time and would have to try again the next day.

The following day I got an earlier start and prepared a little better before I went.  I asked the manager of my hotel to call the college, ask directions, and write them down for me to show my taxi driver.  She actually did better than that — she went outside with me and gave verbal directions to the taxi driver along with the written ones, just to make sure.  This time we were successful and I soon found myself standing in the middle of a collection of nondescript buildings, with no idea which one was the one I needed.

But, with the help of a passing student, I was soon standing outside the proper classroom.  Not wanting to disrupt the class too much (yeah, right!), I caught the teacher's attention from the hallway.  She came out to greet me with a big smile and a very enthusiastic welcome.  She invited me in to talk to her class (a different group than the ones I met in Yangshuo) — but I graciously declined.  I chatted with her and a couple of the students I had met before (including the girl who had approached me both times in Yangshuo).

After a few minutes, I told them I should go and said goodbye — or at least I tried to.  The teacher stepped back into her classroom, but came back out almost immediately.  She told me her students insisted that I come in and visit, so in I went.  I found myself standing in front of 40+ students — most of whom did not speak English, but all wanting to talk to me.  I said a few words — my name, where I'm from, that I'm traveling for three years, etc. — then asked if they had any questions.  They did, of course, and I answered as best I could considering the language barrier.  Then I finally said goodbye for real and left.  It was one of those memorable days that I'm sure will stand out above the rest in the years to come when I think back on my travels.

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